


Trouble Trick

by executrix



Category: Firefly
Genre: AU, M/M, Pre-Series, rentboy fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/executrix/pseuds/executrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assume for the sake of the argument that Jayne and Simon met before the series...in the scope of professional services.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Trick

_The wise warlord never enters a foreign country without as much information as he can get. To do so is extremely foolish. It is called having one's head in the clouds._ (Sun Tzu).

 **NOVEMBER**  
The customer ain't, the good Lord knows, always right, but the money was too good. I got stupid.

It was a hotel trick, which was the good part. Just go in there, get paid, do the job, take off the restraints if I used 'em, pack up. Got a nice case, everythin' folds or rolls up in there or what have you. Leave my card for future reference, and then leave my own self.

Roberta got 'em made up. With her number an' all (nobody but my folks gets **my** number). Black border, real elegant. Says "J.M. Cobb, Personal-Type Consultation Services," with the motto underneath, in slanty letters. "Pain Is Scary."

When Roberta told me about the Special Order, at first I just shook my head. Because that is the kind of thing that just leads to trouble, sure as shootin'. A subject on which I know somethin' about. But Roberta talked me into it. Not like she warn't gettin' twenty percent of the extra coin.

It was a big room—not a suite, though—at the Sihnon Hilton. There was drinks and little sandwiches and stuff but what'd he think, this was an ice cream social? So soon's I put away my wallet, I ordered him to strip.

Couldn't help lookin' more than I usually do, 'cause he was real cute. In a small way. Long ago, I stopped wonderin' why someone good-lookin' would pay to get sexed up. I seen some powerful ugly critters get lots of play. Guess that's mostly with girlfolks though.

"Your…ummm…business manager over at Slings and Arrows…explained what else I want, Mr. Cobb?" he asked. I nodded. I got another towel from the bathroom, for over the wet spot, and he cleaned up with the one he had. I was gonna take my boots off, but I figured that was the hotel's lookout, so I climbed into bed and pulled the sheet and blankets up over us. He launched himself at my arms which I wrapped around him. Didn't try to not grab the messed-up parts 'cause I figured he wouldn'ta paid me to mess 'em up if that didn't ring his chimes. He pushed his head into my shoulder like he was gonna dig a hole to Sihnon and I squoze him tighter. He breathed sorta rough, 'cause he just got whaled on or that was his excuse, anyway.

Then he hitched up and kissed me on the forehead and drew his finger 'cross my lip under the soupcatcher. "I know," he said. "I won't kiss you. That's your privacy. But stay until I fall asleep," he said. Which I did.

 **DECEMBER**  
Seemed like a waste of money for a hotel room, so we was at his place and the difference could go toward tip money. His furniture looked to be real wood, which makes a difference when you don't want folk rippin' apart what they're tied to. I mean, it's their furniture and all, but I hate to ruin what a working man put a lot of effort into. I snapped my fingers same as usual for him to get nekkid, but he shook his head and said, "You do it." And he pretended to struggle some, which was funny for a little slip of a thing like him.

Usually I ain't troubled that way when I'm workin', so I almost had to stop and wonder 'bout what that feelin' was. "Oh, my," Simon said up from the bed where he got threw, lookin' at the bushel the light warn't exactly hid under. He reached out his hand and I twisted his arm back behind him. "I don't do stuff like that," I said.

"An extra hundred?" he said. "My wallet's there…or there…well, wherever my trousers wound up. Help yourself."

If he put it that way, I guess it wasn't too unfair to get more'n' a good day's pay for a working man just to let him put his mouth where his money was.

This ain't an occupation where you can totally avoid perverts, but, yehsooa. Practically never met no one with that much of a kink for gettin' folks to do what they said they weren't gonna.

 **JANUARY**  
We done it a bunch the regular ways, but what Simon liked best was sittin' on top of my lap, which made sense considerin' how bossy he is, so that's what we did and then got to talkin'. When I got done tellin' him all about Margaret Bess and the pig and the gutter downspout, he laughed and said I should write that stuff down.

"If I'da wanted schoolin', I'da gone to school," I said. "What's for supper?"

"Seitan loaf," he said. "Mashed potatoes. Tomato gravy. Hodgeberry stack cake."

"There any beer?"

"Isn't there always?"

 **FEBRUARY**  
I closed the door, put the key in my pocket. Simon paced 'round the living room like a pinball bouncin' off flippers. "Got your call," I said, and he prissed his lips together and nodded, like, how dumb was it to say that? I was there, wasn't I?

I built myself a bourbon and branch to settle myself down from where he was damagin' my calm. His next spin 'round the room, his face was turned to me. He looked generally ruffled and disreputable, at least for him, and someone had socked him right under the eye. By the taste, he'd been into the brandy already.

"Hey!" I said indignantly. "You been chippyin' on me with street-corner trash? And ain't you supposed to be at work now anyway?"

He sat down on the couch and I put my arm 'round his shoulder. He started to flinch away but I patted at his hair, smoothed down the ruffly. "For your first question, no, not in the sense you mean. For the second, I've been suspended, pending investigation."

"Awww, crap," I said. "One of your patients kicked the bucket? Sorry ya got in trouble."

And now he was the one whose professional panties was in the bunch. "No, my adverse incident percentage is eleven percent below average, even without adjusting the casemix for acuity…actually, I got bound by law. In a blackout zone. And this—was a Fed, giving credibility to his 'Resisting Arrest' charges."

"How'd ya get out?"

"My father bailed me out. But he made it very clear that unless I stop doing what I have no intention of…and of course, my mother…whatever **he** says goes. So….I lost my whole family, at once."

"Good gorram riddance," I said. "Wish I could lose mine. No, I don't, not really."

"Uhhh. Let me backtrack. Jayne, I know it'll be hard to believe this, but I just need you to trust me, I think over time we've built a certain amount of trust…"

It's just rich folks that think that the Government is on their side, regular people don't think there's nothin' amiss when the muckety-mucks just take your money and kick your ass.

"See, Cupcake, what you need is a hoodlum," I said. "You shoulda just asked. I know all kinds. Even flyin' ones, for once we get this done."

"Jayne," he said, "While I'm grateful that you volunteered, I think that's an excessively casual approach to taking on the entire military and…I don't know, research…Establishment."

I shrugged. "Buncha pantywaists."


End file.
